As Promised

The airport makes an interesting hotel, especially for one who is hell-bent on not dropping off to sleep in such a place. It isn't as if dozing wouldn't be a mercy, but there are disadvantages to flomping in an unsecured area, knowing that once exhaustion sets in a sound sleep could last for hours, resulting in a missed flight or stolen valuables (in this case, Coco-kun and the prize dead fish I am carrying around in my backpack; losing personal documents is also a concern). At this point I am not certain which would be more traumatic - theft or a missed flight - and I am almost inclined to say that, barring the disappearance of aforementioned valuables, the latter would be more disturbing. Thieves, if you are inclined to pinch things, please refrain from swiping my pinnard or my fish or my trusty sidekick; removal of such items would be a cruelty too great to be fathomed.

So yes. In lieu of actually getting and sleep I am roaming the airport, laoptop in hand, and sitting guard by my two possession-laden bags, nibbling away at the remaining food in my lunch sack (the orange is for breakfast, so no touching that, and the sunflower seeds are for tomorrow afternoon with the pack of emergen-c and - oh yes - the chocolate) and faffing away on the internet. Hurrah for free wireless! I can thus while away the night in the company of Oliver Wendell Douglas and his French-speaking wife Lisa (who /knew/ a sitcom from the sixties could be so entertaining), or trailing the Doctor around to his various adventures (I'll admit, that got old rather fast; this staying-awake deal isn't half that it is cracked up to be), or poking through Odd Compliments.

But it isn't keeping me awake anymore. Sheer willpower is preventing me from dropping off, as I am fairly holding my eyelids up in order to keep from flopping over onto the floor. Because I am sitting on the floor now, see; it isn't exactly good form to sprawl over an airport like you own the place, but exhaustion reduces inhibition and I have not the slightest qualms about flushing out the corners, so long as I am not obliged to sit out in the open. Though I did for a while, sit out there, because Coco-kun needed charging and... the plug...

Nope. That was not me nodding off; not at all. I'm not even sleepy. ... Now let me pull out my last Babybel cheese wheel to keep my concentration going in several different areas so I don't crash face-first into the carpet, and no, jumping jacks is not included as an option for stimulation. It would work only for as long as I happened to be on my feet. Gaaaaah. Where are five-hour energy shots when you need them? First thing tomorrow morning I know what I'll be buying, just for sipping when the hour requires.

There is a great big rainbow mural on the wall behind the escalators and the security desk, and I did not notice it until just now. The ceiling is comprised of wooden panels and involves some fancy curved support structure beams. Does it matter? No. Does staying awake matter? Yes.

Meh.

Five hours. Five hours left, then I can board the plane and sleep for two thirds of an hour or so. And then there are the four hours in another plane, and in another plane...

Yes, it is an adventure. As it happens, I have fallen in love with traveling by train; the speed and the rocking and the roominess and the sky and raised rails and ambiance are by far the most agreeable of the options, if such a decision can be made in one opportunity for acquaintance. Granted, it didn't have a completely objective trial; I'd come from two buses, and of course those were going to be noisier and more cramped and far more uncomfortable, not to mention that the seats were murder for my tailbone. Try sitting up straight in a bus seat designed to compel you to slump, and you will see exactly what I mean. I spent nearly the whole trip discreetly wriggling around in an unsuccessful attempt to find a position that /didn't/ put agonizing pressure on my sacrum, all except for the fifteen minutes or so in which I somehow managed to keel over and rest my head on the shoulder of the lady sitting next to me. Awareness that I was touching something that did not happen to be my seat induced a rather rude awakening, but there was no comment from my seatmate, an older lady whom I am not even sure spoke English. There is the possibility that she did not notice, as she too had been snoozing for the majority of the trip.

Four and a half hours. Four and a half. Oh, may the counter reach zero shortly, because my endurance is giving way. Back to Green Acres I go. Or perhaps, in this case, SHINee would be more effective.